


dust to dust.

by avadescent



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, As canon as this can be without Ben dying, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avadescent/pseuds/avadescent
Summary: “You know, I had a vision before,” she whispered. “I saw you on a throne. I was there too—right next to you.”“Then it looks like I was right, after all,” he replied. “We would rule.”TROS. Alternate Ending. Reylo.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 92





	dust to dust.

**Author's Note:**

> Because who wants Ben Solo to die like _that _? Not me.__

She was cold.

It was unnatural, to hold her close to him and feel only coldness emanating from her. There was no spirit too: no fire dancing in the corners of her irises, no hesitation in the way she looked at him. When he touched her he felt the remnants of their bond, like a string that was cut too short.

He buried his head in her shoulder. He would gladly give up the warmth within him if only to feel her heart beating beneath his again. She didn’t deserve to die. Everything he had done since the beginning was to never let her die.

So he wouldn’t.

He pulled back, abruptly, his gaze coming to rest on her. Rey’s eyes were glass, and they were open, so as he brought his hand over her stomach, just as she had done for him, he thought that empty glasses were meant to be filled.

He centered himself, focused on breathing. The air that was filtering in and out of his nose, the first sign of life.

He focused on breathing, and once he felt it sufficient, he focused on her breathing. He felt his face burn at the shift in thought, but he paid no heed to it, and instead gathered all his attention, all his strength, and poured it into the girl lying limply in his arms.

The first thing that grounded him was the feeling of her hand coming over his.

“Ben,” she whispered, her first word, like she could see him.

He hadn’t felt seen in a long time. His eyes stung with tears at the thought—at the way she was looking at him, alive, her eyes crinkled, her lips pulled up into a happy grin.

There was no more hesitation.

Her lips were soft, though they were warm and impassioned, like the brush of a tender flame. He returned her kiss in kind, grateful for the life that resided within her, and grateful that he could hold her in an embrace without fear of them fighting, or her pulling away. This was an intimacy with her that had become familiar, and kissing her felt like all the times their bond had opened itself, strengthening with every use.

It wasn’t different, and so it was welcome.

She pulled away slowly, like she didn’t want to, and he smiled at her. They were injured, they were in the remains of the Sith’s Empire, and they were coated head to toe in dust in debris, but her face before him was illuminated by lightning, fast and striking as her spirit, and to him she looked ethereal.

“Your scar,” she breathed, her fingers brushing across the freshly opened wound.

“You gave me life,” Ben answered, in that direct and honest way of his. “I gave it back to you.”

“And...?” Her eyes fluttered down to the injury she had dealt him during their last battle. It hadn’t reopened.

“It wasn’t your life that healed it,” he replied. He averted his gaze, and the motion showed her shame. “It was not my life that you took, in that moment. It was Kylo Ren’s. The last of my mother’s strength was what allowed me to live.”

“How...?” Rey asked, though as she did, she realized the question was moot. She already knew the answer: Leia had stopped her training because she had sensed her son’s death at the end of her journey. In many ways, Kylo Ren was still her son.

And in many ways, General Leia Organa was the kind of woman who would offer up any sacrifice, for the protection of those she loved.

Ben simply smiled at her question, as though he saw the answer in her eyes, and she returned the sentiment, her thumb brushing over his lips. She had never seen his smile before.

“Let’s go home, Ben.”

“Home,” he repeated, and she helped him up, drew his arm around her shoulders in support. “I haven’t been home for a long time.”

“Well,” she answered, grinning, “We all have to start somewhere.”

She took the first step. He followed. Together, they walked away.

* * *

Luke’s ship landed swiftly in the midst of the Resistance base. In light of everyone’s joy and relief at the conclusion of the war, the beaten up vessel wouldn’t have received so much attention. Except that this beaten up vessel was followed shortly by an Imperial tie fighter, which set everyone on guard, majority raising their weapons and threatening to shoot.

Finn and Poe rushed to the forefront of the entire assembly, their guns at the ready, their trigger fingers happy to shoot whoever it was that followed Rey back.

Rey herself appeared shortly after, her head peering out from the cockpit of Luke’s ship. Without paying much attention to anyone else, she hopped out of her seat and hurried towards the tie fighter, whose entrance was opening slowly to reveal…

… Kylo Ren.

“Rey!” Finn rushed forward, finger already pulling on the trigger—

“Don’t!” Rey reached a hand out and swiped. The incoming blast hit the nearby tree. “Don’t shoot.”

Kylo Ren heaved what seemed like a heavy sigh, and soon after that Rey had his arm drawn around her shoulders, hers draped around his waist, and she guided him forward. They noticed he was limping.

“He needs help,” Rey told Finn. “His leg is injured.”

“And why should we help him?” He pointed his blaster at Ben. “He’s the goddamn—”

“I know who he is,” she interrupted. “And he needs help.”

“Give us one good reason why we should help this scumbag instead of shooting him where he stands.” Poe stepped forward.

Rey looked him dead in the eyes. “Because Leia would have wanted you to.”

* * *

They had set up a pseudo-medical room beneath the wings of the tie fighter. No reason to have him inside with the rest of them, even though he had no lightsaber on his person when they’d done the preliminary search.

They were all wary of him, so he remained quiet and kept himself composed and compliant when a girl—Rose, he learned—bandaged his leg. Rey oversaw the entire thing, if only to make sure that no trigger happy fool would open fire. He was perfectly capable of defending himself, even with a broken leg, but Rey was a little more keen on setting an example out of anyone who fired their gun without reason.

She had gone inside about an hour ago. Everyone was celebrating in their make-shift dining hall. He could hear the laughter all the way from where he lay.

He gazed up at the stars until there was something better to look at.

“You seem to be doing just fine,” Rey remarked, treading towards him with a ready smile. “I brought you some dinner. It was hard to slip away though.”

“Thank you,” Ben said, and he meant it. “But I’m not hungry.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

Silence reigned for a few seconds before Rey decided to lie next to him. It was a bit of a tight fit, but there remained centimeters worth of distance between them once he’d scooted over to make sufficient room for her.

She was warm, lying right next to him. He was glad for it.

They lay in silence for a long time, their eyes set upon the stars, silently mapping out galaxies and pointing out constellations. They remained this way until the moons were halfway through the sky, and until the merriment in the dining hall all faded into drunken whispers.

“Are you still thinking about who you are?”

“You didn’t have to ask,” she quipped. “I can feel you in my head.”

“I can’t help it.” He looked up at the shifted sky. In this time of night, it looked much like a cavern of darkness, yet this blackness was penetrated by millions of tiny specks, some big, and some small. The stars would always be there, taking up space, making sure the dark wasn’t wholly black. For the first time, Ben felt the weight of their connection. Him and Rey weren’t alone—they never were, even though they had felt that way for a vast majority of their lives.

The darkness and the light... they always came together. Where one was, the other would be. He could count on that. “You’re thinking very loud.”

“You’re the one who’s listening in the first place.”

He turned to her, then. “Why does it bother you? Your lack of a last name.”

“I do have a last name.”

“It’s not one you accept.” He returned his gaze to the sky. “And it’s not one that I associate with you, either.”

“Then what would you associate me with?”

The question was honest, almost brutally so, and he remained silent in his struggle to answer.

It took him awhile. “Well, who do you consider your family to be?”

Rey hummed, and he could hear what she was thinking. She thought of Finn, of Poe. Of all the members of the Resistance. She thought of his father, Han, and she thought of Luke—or Master Skywalker, as she called him, and then she thought of Leia, her last Master, the mother-figure she had gained with all that she had lost.

Finally, and this caused his heart to race against his will, she thought of him.

“You,” she whispered, and he wasn’t sure if she said it out loud, or straight to his spirit. “Leia, Luke, Han. Finn, Poe. All of you. You’re all my family.”

“If that’s the case,” he said, trying in vain to keep his voice straight, “Then who are you?”

She ruminated on the question, and through their bond he caught a glimpse of the world through her eyes. He blinked, recognition coursing through him, and he saw the ghost of Luke, of his mother. His breath was lost to him in that moment, and all he could do was stare, gaze longing, like that of a child.

Why appear to her and not to him? he thought, bitterly. Had he gotten too lost to ever be found again?

He was content to leave himself with these thoughts, though as he worked to pull himself away from Rey’s eyes, he thought he could see his mother turn her head, her eyes meeting his. She smiled, with forgiveness, and he felt that he could breathe again.

Rey’s shoulders touched his. She’d inched closer to him.

“I’m Rey,” she murmured softly, like a confession. “Who are you?”

“I’m Ben,” he replied in tandem, inching closer to her too.

“Just Ben?” She turned to him. “Not Ben Solo?”

“Ben,” he affirmed. “As much as my father would like to disagree, I have walked farther in my grandfather’s legacy than I have in his. Considering who I was and who I have become, I am, at the very core, a Skywalker.”

“Skywalker, huh?” He could feel her grin. “Then Rey Skywalker it is.”

He blinked. A warm feeling engulfed his heart gradually, in increments, until he could sense his own heartbeat thrive, renewed. He sensed the feeling in Rey’s heart too, and he wondered if she was gifting him with it. 

He thought of pulling her into his arms again. 

“Rey Skywalker it is.”

He didn’t need to ask her to know how right they both felt it was.

“You know, I had a vision before,” she whispered. “I saw you on a throne. I was there too—right next to you.”

“Then it looks like I was right, after all,” he replied, a trace of smugness to his tone. She elbowed him. “We would rule.”

“A good rule,” she interjected, firmly.

“A balanced one,” he added, and when he turned to look at her he could see her smiling at him, brighter than any star, wider than any galaxy, and in that moment he felt he had done something right for once.

“A balanced one,” she echoed, and the beating of his heart evened.

That would be a long and bitter path to follow, especially in light of all he had done, but they had to start somewhere. That’s what she said. He conceded that she was right.

In any case, he considered that she was beside him now, and he was beside her, and that alone would be enough.

They would lay the first foundation together.

* * *

The following day, Rey called all the Resistance members outside in an impromptu assembly. They had planned this together the night before; they would all listen to her.

And listen to her they did. She explained the situation, uncovered their plans for restoring peace to the entire galaxy.

“I can’t do it alone,” Rey announced, humble. “I need all of you to help me. And, as much as everyone here hates to hear it, I need Ben too.”

“Ben?” Finn repeated, aghast. “You call him  _ Ben  _ now?”

“That’s who he is.” Through their bond, Ben could feel her accompanying smile was directed at him.

An uproar rose through the crowd at the proclamation, and when voices of protest threatened to discredit Rey, to call her deluded, to question her judgement, Ben stepped forward to stand right next to her, his stance firm and authoritative, despite the broken leg. They were a powerful dyad, and the sight of them standing next to each other equally seemed to be enough to instigate the breath of change.

They spend the entire afternoon, bare before the people, their only weapons their words and their faith.

“I can’t let the past die,” Ben confessed softly, at the end of it all. “But I  _ can _ help you build the future. And that is what I intend to do for the rest of my life.”

He was graced with skepticism, with unchecked hatred. In that moment, Ben could glimpse the winding road of redemption: twisted, jagged, full of malice and wrought with merciless reminders of all his sins. Traveling it would be no easy feat, especially considering that no Sith had ever crossed that road successfully without fading away.

He then thought of his grandfather, of Anakin’s tragic legacy. The only difference between them now was the blood of his father, which resided within him. He was no Anakin—he was Ben, Solo and Skywalker both, and he would be the first to reach the end of that path. He would make sure of it. If not for the galaxy, then for the sake of his family.

He glanced at Rey. He thought he could see them standing right behind her, flickering in the wind. Luke, Han, Leia. Resolution solidified his stance, and soon after the mirages behind Rey were lifted away to flutter aimlessly in the breeze.

She was left standing before him, her hand outstretched.

“Join me,” she said simply. 

He bit back the urge to laugh, but with the mirth dancing in her eyes he felt he had no reason to hide it. A smile settled itself on his face, and it held traces of Han’s charm, of Leia’s tenacity. It was, however, for the most part Ben’s. It belonged to him. Ben’s smile.

And it was one reserved for Rey.

Without further word, he took her hand and held it tightly in his. 

They both found no reason to ever let go.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who cares, I view thematic construction as a crucial aspect to writing a story. Rey and Ben’s relationship is thematic in and of itself, especially with the rise of their Force Bond and the developing struggle between the Light and the Dark. Both of them have a hard time with finding their place in the Force, as Ben is turned to the Dark despite the Light that remains within him, and Rey is turned to the Light despite the Dark that attracts her so relentlessly.
> 
> In the end, I felt Reylo’s overarching theme would be the consolidation of beliefs, the acceptance of the simultaneous existence between Light and Dark, and how no one is ever truly Light or ever truly Dark. It would be with this that the two would take the “throne”—as alluded heavily several times throughout the sequel trilogy—and lead a new era of peace and prosperity in the galaxy. One that would, hopefully, last long into the future.
> 
> Unfortunately, this did not happen. If Ben Solo truly did have to die, then I’d rather his death be thematically significant, but it wasn’t. I left the theatre dissatisfied, and came home to the laptop to get my frustration out. 
> 
> Reylo was crucial to the theme that The Rise of Skywalker built up for itself. If they both had gone on to fulfill what the OG trio could not, then I feel that not only would have TROS concluded itself properly, but the story of the original trilogy would have been vindicated as well. The whole point of the Original was to bring peace to the galaxy. When that couldn’t be achieved by putting the Sith or the Jedi solely in power, then a new kind of rule would have had to be defined.
> 
> In other words, I wanted Rey and Ben to rule the motherfucking galaxy. At least then it wouldn’t feel like everything is still in shambles.
> 
> I am not an avid Star Wars fan. If you click on my profile and scroll through all the works I’ve written thus far, that would be made painstakingly real to you. So the fact that I left the theatre itching to write something like this proves just how wasted and thematically demeaning TROS’s ending was.
> 
> At the very least, we all still have fic. I hope you enjoyed this one.
> 
> Cheers!  
> Ise.
> 
> P.S.: Title is derived from the song by the Civil Wars because I could think of no other song and I suck at titles.


End file.
